


Secrets

by yeaka



Category: Travelers (TV)
Genre: M/M, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-21
Updated: 2019-10-21
Packaged: 2020-12-27 08:57:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21116126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Philip tries to keep Carly and Marcy from breaking protocol two.





	Secrets

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Travelers or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

He wakes up to voices in the other room—the _main_ room, right outside the little one that he’s sectioned off for his bed and toiletries. It takes him a minute to process who it is—as far as he knows, they don’t have any meetings today. The boss would’ve commed them, and Philip doesn’t usually sleep through that. Then he makes out their voices: Carly and Marcy, discussing the specs of their current on-going mission. It shouldn’t come to a head until Friday, and if Philip has his dates right, it’s only Thursday. Then Carly lets slip the ‘f’ word—_future_—and Philip scrambles out of bed.

He’s not dressed. He finds his jeans strewn across the floor and hops into them, silently cursing to himself and not daring to lean on the mattress—he tries to disturb his bed as little as possible. His shirt’s tangled in the blankets, and he doesn’t want to risk trying to get it out, so instead he pulls out a new one and shoves it on as he stumbles outside. Both women look up and over at him. Neither seem to notice his state of disarray—maybe they just think it’s normal for him. He’s a wreck, and he knows it. But he’s even more wrecked than usual. He doesn’t come close enough for them to smell the shame on him. He really needs a shower. 

He might also be walking with a slight limp, so he doesn’t go far, and all he can really do about that one is hope that Marcy doesn’t notice.

Carly starts, “We need to talk to the Director. That library isn’t even—”

As soon as he hears ‘director,’ Philip cuts in, “Uh, guys... can we do this another time?”

Carly stops and blinks at him. He can see in Marcy’s face that she already suspects something. Scratching the back of his head, he tries to explain, “Look, uh... I just woke up, and... I don’t think we should be talking _work_ right now...”

“We need to talk about it,” Carly insists, eyeing him up like he’s an idiot. “If we don’t get this mission right, twenty thousand people are going to die.”

Philip’s nerves are rising. He can feel his skin prickling with it. “Guys...”

“If we can’t get to the Director, we need to at least get more information in the twenty-first. If you can hack into the—”

Someone whistles. Carly cuts off, and Philip sees her hand dart to her side, obviously hovering over her concealed gun. Marcy’s eyes have gone wide around the edges. Philip turns back towards his bedroom, already knowing what he’ll see. 

Ray’s wandered out, his clothes just barely on, pants not zipped up and shirt severely wrinkled, hair a mess and stubble overgrown. He’s even more in need of a shower than Philip is. He gives the women a seedy smile and says, “So hacking’s how you get those bets. Don’t worry; I won’t tell.” He makes a cheesy zipping motion across his lips and winks at Philip. Philip can feel his cheeks heating. He can’t even bring himself to correct Ray, because having Ray think he’s just hacking some sort of racing data is better than the alternative. 

He does say, “See you later, Ray,” flatly but pointedly. Fortunately, Ray takes the hint. He never sticks around long in the mornings anyway. 

He chirps, “Great seein’ yah, kid,” and pushes out the door of the warehouse. Philip’s eyes scrunch shut when he hears the door close. He can’t bring himself to meet Carly or Marcy’s eyes. 

After a long, painful moment of silence, Marcy tries, “Well, he’s...”

“A choice,” Carly deadpans. 

Philip mutters, “I know, okay.” And he can’t bring himself to tell them that Ray’s got a huge dick, a warm body, and absolutely no sense of judgment or commitment, so he just wanders back to the bedroom and hopes they never ask about it again.


End file.
